


Tales from the Road

by Niki



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Motels, Alien Planet, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Road Trips, Trope Bingo Round 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Road Trips are road trips, even on alien planets. A bodyguard and her charge grow closer than ever sharing the road, some beds, and stories. Dragons and mermaids and stranded alien women may or may not feature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales from the Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> I wanted to write all the pairings for you so I tried to sneakily combine some of your prompts. Hope you enjoy the tales as much as I enjoyed crafting them!
> 
> (And now that the reveals have happened, I'm claiming this for my Trope Bingo Round 7 card, prompt: Road Trips)

“You can count on me, Your Majesty,” Bren Triellen said decisively, cutting the connection of the interstellar video call.

“Bren!” Her Royal Highness Kireni of the Seat of the Glorious Freedom said, unhappy at her heavy-handedness, then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started again. “I apologise for my snappishness, but what in the convoluted hells are you doing?”

“Making sure you get safely to your destination, Your Highness.”

Her bodyguard said, as if it was self-evident.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“You heard His Majesty...”

“My father, you have no problems referring to him as 'your father' usually, why are you so formal now? The connection was cut.”

“You heard your old man, Kir,” Bren said, still with the same determined voice, regardless of the change in register in her terms. “The official channels are not secure at the moment. The threats were made against you personally. We need to improvise.”

“Improvise,” Kir repeated, unimpressed.

“Yep.” And now her bodyguard-dash-best friend was definitely grinning behind her staid façade.

“So if we cannot take the Royal Cruiser off the planet...” Kir let the end of the sentence trail off, waiting for Bren to fill her in.

“We have to use a regular liner.”

“And this 'regular liner' makes you smirk because you cannot imagine me in such surroundings? I'll have you know, I've taken transports that would...”

“Nope, it amuses me because there are no interplanetary liners on this port, this is private vessels only. The bruiser cruisers leave from the other side of the continent.”

“So?”

She as so very obviously missing something it was making her impatient but she struggled to not let it show. Bren would have her joke.

“So we can't take the transporters, or any other form of transportation that requires the reading of our ID chips. Well, yours. I have a spare.”

“And that means?”

“And that means we're going on a road trip. Your Highness.”

*

Of course, when Bren said "they" were going on a road trip, she didn't mean Her Royal Highness Kireni of the Seat of the Glorious Freedom of and her body guard Bren Triellen were going to rent a vehicle and ride through the planet. It meant Tr K'fani - Bren's backup identity - and an unknown female friend went on a road trip.

And an unknown female friend of a mercenary Tr would not wear the latest fashions of the high society of the galaxy. She would wear whatever they found on the space port stores, as unassuming as possible, even if that was a bit of a stretch in the stores of a luxury port.

Kir did not protest the imitation blue jeans or the drab shirt, but raised her eyebrows at the cap Bren placed on her head. Designer label or not, it was still a cap. With a sun visor.

"What? It covers your face if you keep your head down. Should be enough to fool facial recognition software and most flying probes."

"In that case..." Kir said, and quickly released the golden clasp keeping her long hair in place and rolled it into a messy bun she stuffed under the cap, to a pleased grin from Bren. 

*

“So this is a road trip.” Kir said, and Bren shot her a quick look. She was sitting curled up in the front seat next to the driver's seat she herself was occupying, looking more relaxed than Bren had ever seen her while travelling.

“Well, a start of one to be sure. I don't suppose the Seat ever took you on a cruise on a Sunday when you were kids?”

“Unless you mean state visits in exotic places, travelling with a full retinue, then no,” she said, but even though the words were haughty, her tone wasn't. She was – yet again – amused by the pomp and circumstance surrounding her early life.

“We used to do this before my parents could afford to get off planet – take a 'car or a 'copter and just take the long way to get somewhere. We'd stop to take in the sights in the middle, and maybe spend a night somewhere on the way. There were snacks and games and... yeah, maybe it was boring every once in a while, but I mostly remember the fun.”

“It does sound fun. Is that why you stocked up on the most improbable things on the 'mart back there?”

“We can't know if we'll find any places that cater to our sort down by the highlanes. At least every spaceport sells carbon-based snacks. Even luxury ports.”

“I did see you buy some truffles too. I doubt they were a part of your road trip snacks.”

“No reason why you couldn't have your favourites too, rich girl. Besides, your dad's paying." The grin she shot at Kir would probably had been enough in the eyes of her royal father to sack her for its irreverence, but the second child of the Seat just laughed with her eyes and smiled back.

Bren had never known what the phrase “hair like spun gold” meant until she'd seen Kireni for the first time. The words had just been something fairytale princesses looked like, not real girls. Her own blonde hair was pale and matte, always looking thin until she cut it short and found the style that suited her, and she had kept it short ever since. But Kir, her hair was long and luxuriously thick and the colour was deep and rich in its blondness, and the phrase just came to Bren's mind and refused to leave: that was what spun gold was like. And it didn't owe its lustre to a dye either, and her royal line had always prided themselves over not using in utero genetic mods either so it was all nature.

And the hair wasn't the end of it – Kireni of the Seat of Glorious Freedom looked exactly like those fairytale princesses Bren had been force fed as a child, even though she had liked the stories where the princesses ran away with dragons more than the ones where the dragon captured her and she had to be saved by a knight.

Kir was tall and slim and had perfect even features, green eyes that glittered like gems and hinted at her family's bloodline despite her otherwise baseline human looks. Her voice was melodious and the timbre pleasant to hear, and even though that was probably as much training as genetics, it was still one of Bren's favourite sounds in the world.

Because Kir was also kind, and good, and generous, and honest, and all the things she shouldn't be, if one listened to the grumblings about hereditary rulership.

And she was Bren's friend, even though she was employed by her family just to guard her.

Bren had grown up on those tales of knights and space dragons, and her large frame had meant she was ideally suited for the rougher sports, the harder training. She was taller than Kir by a head and wider by almost as much, sleek muscle and sturdy shapes.

Still, she never felt ugly or ungainly next to her royal charge, because she knew she moved gracefully for her size, thanks to all those thousands of hours of training, and she knew she cleaned up nice and could talk the talk of the entitled, enough so that she had been hired in the first place. First as a general guard for the Seat, then to join the royal family during state visits due to her background in all those different systems, and then, finally, to Kir, after they had shared an afternoon stranded on yet another space port, and realised they could be friends.

Kir did not phrase it like that when requesting her services, of course, but in the years since Bren had been made to feel more like a member of the royal household than a servant of the Seat.

“Well then,” Kir said, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Isn't it high time you teach me some of those games, then?”

*

The establishment they stopped in for the night could have been a motel on Earth. Individual doors from outside directly to the rooms, and one paid in advance in the separate office. Bren took care of that.

"Don't you need my ID chip to sign in?" Kir asked. "Doesn't that defeat the point of our efforts to stay incognito?"

Bren had wished she wouldn't ask.

"Well, you see... If I sign you up as my spouse, in GRowiyle you are considered my property and therefore I don't need to identify you by name."

"You what? I am _what_?"

"Because I did the signing in, it is expected I am the person of higher rank so... Look, it was this or get you a fake ID and that would have taken time."

"Oh, I am not complaining. Much. Except about the fact you were not going to tell me. Were you?"

"I figured it was more tactful to leave it out. It's not like it was going to affect anything."

At least she hoped. Fervently. Kir raised one elegant eyebrow but did not comment further.

The rooms themselves were admittedly a little bit more luxurious than any motel Bren had ever stayed in, resembling a deluxe suit in an expensive hotel, even though only a single room. There were even paintings on the walls, even though, again, they were a bit different from the ubiquitous prints in the motels she and her family had stayed in during their road trips.

Kir headed straight to one of the king sized beds, the one with a soft mattress and bedding designed for humanoid comfort.

“Why did you let me eat so many of those snacks?” she asked in a plaintive voice, one elegant white hand curled protectively against her flat stomach. Bren couldn't help but compare it to her own - her hand would cover more area - but they weren't actually married, and no matter how close friends they were, that was an idea beyond what friends would be comfortable with.

“ _I_ let you?” Bren asked as cover for her thoughts, with amusement which she assumed was perfectly audible in her voice. “Let’s go with that then, Your Highness.”

“You are a cruel, unfeeling creature, and I’m going to ask my daddy to fire you,” Kir countered. 

For almost the first month Bren had believed her threats, until Kir became _Kir_ instead of Her Royal Pain in the Ass whose over the top complaints she learnt to read as humour. Besides, if the second born of the Seat wanted to fire someone in her employ, she wouldn’t need her father for it. Nor did she _ever_ refer to him as “daddy” unless in jest.

“Of course, Your Highness,” she said solicitously, as if to a child, and Her Royal Highness royally stuck her tongue out at her. 

"Aren't you supposed to provide for me, spouse?" 

Bren heaved a melodramatic sigh while heading for the drink provider in the corner to see what was programmed in.

“Here, try this,” she said, offering Kir a glass of white liquid.

“What is it?” Kir asked, but was already sipping it. The amount of trust in the gesture hit Bren surprisingly hard. Forget the joking, forget her following Bren’s instructions in a dangerous situation, the trust of her taking an unknown liquid from her on an alien planet spoke of intimacy that made Bren feel small. (With her 6’4 frame, that didn’t happen a lot.)

“It’s closest I could get to cow milk in here.”

“Milk?”

“That’s what mom gave us when we over ate candy.”

“I’ll take anything that works,” Kir said with a self-deprecating smile and drank some more. “But I don’t think I want to know what it really is.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve tested it myself in the past.”

“You’ve been on GRowiyle before?”

“My first personal bodyguard job, way back when. I was babysi… I mean guarding the sproglet of a business family who liked to get things cheap. Hence, hiring me even though I only had experience working within a group. And their food choices. We all learnt to love WLEKJi milk during our stay.”

Bren continued opening their luggage and taking out their night things, even though she very decidedly was not a maid, and wouldn’t do this for any other client. Or spouse, probably.

“Stop fussing and sit down,” Kir said, patting the mattress next to her.

“What do you need?” Bren asked, pausing instantly.

“For you to sit, no, lie down.”

“I can take one of the other beds.”

“The aquarium or the terrarium?”

“There will be spare bedding to make the terrarium into a bed.”

“Sit. Down,” Kir commanded, but her voice never acquired the ice and steel it contained when talking to anyone else refusing her orders. The hand patting the bed next to her remained gentle.

Bren lay down on the bed, and Kir rolled over to face her.

“Tell me a story,” she demanded, both hands on her stomach now, and Bren wondered when she should start worrying that there was something else wrong besides overeating.

“All right, Your Highness, anything specific?”

Anything to keep her mind off the pain, even if bedtime stories weren't usually part of her duties.

“A fairy tale. A love story.”

“I shall tell you about my ancestor, then. The version we were told when we were kids, at least.”

“Does it have dragons in it?”

“Almost." _Once upon a time there was a girl called Satu who grew up dreaming about stars. This was before humans could travel into space, before we knew of others inhabiting its vastness. One day when she was walking in a forest she met another girl, who looked lost._

_‘Are you okay?’ Satu asked._

_‘I seem to be a little lost,’ the girl said, with a lilting accent Satu couldn’t place._

_‘I can help you! Where are you going?’_

_‘Home,’ she replied in a wistful tone._

_‘But where is home?’_

_‘Too far away, I fear.’_

_So Satu took the girl home with her. She lived alone, so there was no one to berate her for her decisions. The girl followed her without question. She was taller than Satu, tall and slim, had red hair that was shining like metal, and grey eyes that seemed far too old for how young she seemed. There were ridges on the top of her nose, like she was constantly frowning a little, even as she smiled._

_She said her name was Vee, and she seemed to find everything unfamiliar. She didn’t recognise the food they ate, the 'cars they drove, or the clothes they wore. Satu began to suspect that when she said her home was ‘too far’ she meant a lot farther than she had thought._

_‘You’re not from around here, are you?’ she asked one evening after they had eaten and were sitting outside her house, looking at the stars._

_‘No.’_

_‘I mean, you are not from Earth?’_

_‘No.’ Her smile was sad and wistful again._

_‘Where are you from?’_

_‘We call it the Meer galaxy, planet cluster Gr.’_

_‘Where is it? And how did you get here? Did your spaceship crash?’_

_Vee laughed. ‘I don’t need ships.’_

_‘Teleportation?’ Satu asked, excited._

_‘What imagination you have! No, I flew here.’_

_‘How did you fly without a ship?’_

_Vee just smiled, and stood up, and suddenly she seemed to transform - where there had been a being who looked just like a human woman like her, suddenly stood something Satu could only interpret as a _dragon_. She was shining metallic red, just like Vee’s hair, with claws and fangs and _wings_._

_‘Do you fly _in space_?’ Satu asked, in wonder._

_‘You are not afraid?’ Vee asked, and her voice was her own voice, but it was louder and deeper and seemed to have a weird echo._

_‘Of you? You are my friend.’ She was _terrible_ and she was beautiful and she was _Vee_. Alien or dragon she was still Vee. Her eyes were still grey, even if they now seemed to fill the whole night sky._

_Vee cocked her huge head as if pondering eating this tiny creature in front of her but Satu just looked at those familiar ridges on the top of her snout and smiled._

_'I am well enough to fly home now,' Vee said, and that made Satu lose her smile._

_'Oh.'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Well, I am grateful for the time we've had, and will always miss you.'_

_'You could come with me,' Vee said._

_'I cannot fly in space,' Satu said sadly._

_'I would carry you.'_

_'How will I breathe?'_

_'I will breathe for you.'_

_'Won't I be cold?'_

_'I will keep you warm.'_

_'How can I survive it?'_

_'Better than I would survive without you.'_

_That's when Satu realised Vee loved her just as much as she loved Vee, and her smile returned._

_'I will miss my home. But I would miss you more.'_

_'We can always come back. Our children will need to see where you are from too.'_

"I would like to believe they lived happily ever after,” Bren ended her tale. 

“Children? How did that work? If we didn't have space flight, I guess we didn't have the xenomorphing technology yet either,” Kir asked sleepily.

“I don't know. But it worked somehow. My family always thought it was a mere fairytale, but when humans made first contact and took our place in the intergalactic affairs, my great-great-grandmother's family got tested, and we had alien DNA mixed in with human.”

“So you are _not_ a baseline human, then,” Kir said, with a sleepy smirk.

“We don't even have the eyes of our Meerian ancestor, your royal green-eyeness.”

Kir smiled and touched the ridge of Bren's nose. “But you do have the frown lines.”

The touch felt weird, like crossing a boundary of sorts, but Bren just smiled, because it was not bad weird.

“Good night,” Kir said, and somehow Bren ended up sleeping in her bed after all.

* 

The next night brought a similar not-motel but this one had whole humanoid specific rooms which seemed even fancier than the previous one. It reminded Kir a little of her birth palace: too much gold, too many angles, not enough cosy softness. 

She smiled when she saw Bren again unpacking their essentials for the night. Though not soft by any physical definition, the other woman sure managed to create a feeling of 'cosy softness.'

She even shooed Kir away like a child when she made a move to help, so she took a second look at the artwork on the walls.

There were what she assumed were views from the planet somewhere based on the geography she'd seen from their windows while driving, some fairly good reproductions from Earth artists – obviously directed at making their humanoid guests feel more at home – and a flowy painting of a pair of aquaerifars swimming the currents of a swirling galaxy.

They reminded her of an old acquaintance and she started laughing.

“What's the joke?” Bren asked, smiling indulgently at her, and she loved the fact she'd ask – this woman who had been hired to be her bodyguard and who had so fast become so much more. Someone who could _ask_ Her Royal Highness Kireni of the Seat of the Glorious Freedom why she was laughing.

“Have you ever seen an aquaeriafar?”

“Aren't those the space mermaids? Don't think I have, why?”

“When I was younger, there was a Lady Redwiller in our court – a strong-minded woman, I quite admired her. When I was fifteen she fell pregnant, and I can still hear her...” She paused to laugh again. “Her words: 'How in the convoluted hells can I be pregnant to my _girlfriend_?'”

“And you asked me about dragon mating.”

“Silence, peasant. It turned out her girlfriend was an aq... a space mermaid, and they apparently had a little in common with sea horses because she had managed to impregnate poor Lady R. I mean, they needed special arrangements just to spend time together, having a family was going to be even more complicated.”

“Did she want to, then?”

“I told you she was very strong-minded. They made it work.”

“All you need is love?” Bren asked with a pointed smile.

“Well, high class genetic mods didn't hurt either. The children could breathe in space and planetside, but their other-mother needed some aid in that regard. And her lover had to give in swimming all over the space and settle on the currents around our home planet.”

“But she's still there?”

“Yes. I couldn't quite fathom it back then – she had all of space as her playground, and she voluntarily settled down on that tiny corner of it.”

“How about now?”

“Now...” Kir looked at Bren and smiled. “Now I can see how a person could become to mean as much as all of space, in terms of home.”

Bren had sat down next to her to listen to her story and somehow, they ended up falling asleep in the same bed again, neither one pointing out that there were three perfectly human-sized bed in the room.

*

“Shit!” 

Bren's yell brought Kir out of her travel coma. She jerked to sit up and her head swivelled to look at Bren, then out the windscreen. She has just enough time to brace for impact before the 'car came to a sudden stop just in front of a barricade of sorts cutting the highlane in front of them.

“For us?” she asked, in the calm voice that had been bred into her.

“Can't take the risk either way,” Bren said determinedly, reversing the 'car. “Duck down, just in case.”

Kir followed the instruction immediately, having long since learnt that there were moments to question orders and people's right to give them to her, and moments like this, when any questioning was to be done later, if at all.

“They're chasing us,” Bren told her, eyes on the mirror, no worry showing on her face or in her voice, although Kir knew her too well to fell reassured about this. 

There was a sudden thud which Kir couldn't place. 

“And shooting at us, with projectile weapons.”

“Can you lose them?”

“They're faster. We need to ambush them.”

Kir blinked, unsure if she'd heard correctly.

“After the next bend, I'm going to stop and shoot them. You stay down, but prepare to take the wheel if something happens.”

So much for not questioning orders because what? “What the...? Bren! You can't...”

Too late, her criminally reckless bodyguard was busy performing a stunt driver worthy stop with the hand brake, and opening the driver side door to shoot at their tail. It always looked curiously anticlimactic to see her handle her laser, as the beam was almost invisible and without sound – only Kir's not quite baseline human eyes could detect a hint of the light beam as it hit the beings in the car passing them.

Kir couldn't see whether she hit them without reaching up to look out of the window and she knew better than to do that, but Bren was pulling the door shut and driving back towards the barricade.

“I slowed them down at least,” she said, with a strained voice. “But I might need you to drive.”

That made Kir turn sharply to look at her. “Is that blood? Bren, did they hit you?”

“Right arm. Losing sensation. Need you to drive.”

“I need to look at the wound!”

“Not now. Didn't kill them. I'll drive round the barricade, then you take the wheel.”

“And you treat the wound.” That bit was non-negotiable.

“Deal.”

Bren was even paler than usual when they finally changed places – the ground next to the highlane was rough on their smooth surface 'car, and the jostling couldn't have done any good to her wound. She was bleeding so profusely Kir got some on her when they traded seats on the fly, but at least Bren was already reaching towards the first aid kit in her pack.

“Talk to me,” Bren requested, sounding almost desperate, and it freaked Kir out worse than anything else that had happened.

“We're not being followed,” Kir said, eyes on the mirror. “How's the wound?”

“Clotting agent not working, the bullets had to be laced with something.”

“Can you wrap it?”

“Might need a hand. You sure there's no one?”

“No movement front or back. If it _was_ for me, would they give up this easy?”

“Hard to tell in GRowiyle, there's no law outside the cities – the highlanes are no one's responsibility. Pull up the first change you get.”

Kir decided no one would mind her doing that right where they were, as there was no one in sight for the miles she could see on the straight road. 

“Show me,” she demanded, the strain bleeding through into her voice.

Bren handed her the kit, and she quickly poured rest of the disinfectant over the bloody arm, then wound the dressing round it, pulling it tight to stop the bleeding.

“We should get it properly cleaned.”

“And get the bullet out – there's not exit wound so it has to still be in.”

“How far are we from the next port?”

Bren's hand shook as she accessed the data port in the 'car. “One of those motel things coming up. But they'll know we went there. Much rather go for the next one.”

“How far?”

“Not too far. I'll be fine now that it isn't bleeding openly.”

“Are you telling the truth?”

“I wouldn't lie to you about something that would compromise your safety, Kir.”

“I know. Sorry. I'm worried like hell.”

“I'm not feeling too easy myself but we can't risk staying here for too long.”

“Fine, I'll drive for the next one, and you'll tell me instantly if that stuff does something else.”

“Deal.”

Kir restarted the 'car but kept shooting looks at Bren from the corner of her eye. Did she look even paler?

“Talk to me,” she demanded.

“About?”

“I don't know, other road trips. More fairy tales. Something.”

“I think it's your turn to tell stories,” Bren said after a while, sounding off.

“What's wrong?” Kir demanded.

“Lost a bit too much blood. I have to drink one of the cans of regens in the kit, and that will make my teeth chatter like I'm freezing. Your turn with the stories, I'm afraid.”

“Fine.” Her mind seemed blank. A fairy tale, she needed a... “Well, as you told me about the dragon in your family tree, I suppose I should too. Have you heard the story behind our... what did you call it? Green-eyeness?”

“Rumours and gossip,” Bren replied, though it sounded more like “r-r-r-um-mmors a-a-annd gos-s-s-ipp-p.”

“Indeed. Well, once upon a time, when our line was living on Earth, one of my ancestors was part of the space researching agency, NASA, that was in charge of exploration before first contact. She took part in a flight to a planet farther than they'd ever flown before, but something happened, and most of her crew got killed. She would have died as well, but someone rescued her. An alien humanoid that was strong enough to pull her out of the wreckage of the ship. Are you still listening?”

“Riveted by your evocative story-telling.”

“Hush, I'm not as well-versed in recounting fairy stories as you. Anyway, my ancestor obviously feared for her life, or thought she was hallucinating – this was before the first contact so they had never seen alien life forms before – but the creature carried her into what she assumed was another ship, and tended to her wounds. Possible with the same kind of clotting agent as you were using now – they were _not_ a human innovation no matter what the marketing says. Anyway, she got her wounds tended to, and fed something she could eat, but she didn't know anything about who her saviour was, as they couldn't communicate.”

“Of course your family made the first contact,” Bren remarked dryly, and the stutter was much less noticeable now.

“Not officially, of course. The creature communicated through sounds that sounded like clicks so she had very little hope of actually ever understanding her, or getting herself understood. I kept wondering why your dragon and the girl could talk so easily.”

“Linguistic empathy is a trait of Vee's people. Do go on.”

“Well, they developed a sort of sign language to communicate simple concepts like sleeping or eating, which they both required, and possibly relieving themselves as well, but I was never told about that. And soon they got ambitious with the communication and made pictograms of sorts. My astronaut ancestor wondered about the fact they were still on planet if what they were in was actually a ship but of course she couldn't ask. 

“They pointed at the stars in the sky to share words of their homes, and somehow, despite their differences, they learnt to care for each other, so when the search and rescue vessel finally arrived, my ancestor hid from them, to not have to leave her friend.”

“A friend?”

“Well, that is what we were told when we were young. But friends don't leave genetic traces on friends, so we do assume something more physical happened at some point, and that despite their differences, and the seemingly feminine alien, they could produce offspring. With really, really, strong genes because if we _still_ carry the traces of it to this day...” Kir let her voice trail off.

“But did they live happily ever after?”

“I would like to believe so. Somehow we have the story to this day. I'm sorry I couldn't fill in dialogue and more description to make it more story-like. It just is what it is, as I was told it myself.”

“Thanks for the story,” Bren said, and sounded sincere too. Her teeth were still shattering, but her speech was clearer.

“How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Wouldn't try driving yet.”

“Like I was going to let you. How far are we from the next... what was it? Not-motel?”

“I wonder if they are all part of the same chain. And whether the owners ever travelled to Earth. We should get there soon.”

“Good. I want to see that wound.”

*

This time there wasn't even any pretence – Kir dropped their bags on one of the human-sized beds, and then made Bren lie down in it after they had cleaned the wound, and she had dug out the little metal projectile that had been lodged in next to the bone. Bren had needed more regens after that, so now she was lying in the bed, shivering even under all the blankets in the house.

“Well, we _are_ supposedly married,” Kir said, sighing dramatically, and lay down next to her, burying herself in the same sea of blankets, and pulling Bren into her arms.

“Survival 101,” she said when Bren demurred. “Body heat.”

“But I'm not _actually_ cold – my brain just thinks so.”

“Is that why your skin is icy cold?” 

Bren had no reply to that, so Kir just held her closer. It occurred to her that it was something she wouldn't mind doing for a long time. 

She'd known of course that she loved her – that wasn't hard to realise – and she'd known she desired her, because Bren was gorgeous and strong and soft, but she had never let that affect them in their formal affairs any more than the private ones as friends. 

But lying there, holding her, gave her another way to look at it - she wanted the intimacy and comfort of holding her close, and she wanted it for a long time. This was not a time for passion, so she felt none – but it was a time for love, and that she felt in abundance.

“Thank you,” she said, to distract her from her thoughts. “For saving my life.”

“Well, it's rather what I'm here for,” Bren replied lightly, never comfortable with being reminded of the danger she was in regularly because of her job. Kir didn't even know how many times the other woman had saved her, as she wouldn't have told her about any that she might have missed. 

“Nonetheless. You will have to just suffer through being offered another medal.”

“You can't be handing me medals over every small skirmish.”

“How about for introducing me to those buttercup things?”

“Peanut butter cups?”

“Those, yes. And if you tell me know where you hid them, I will make sure the medal doesn't come with a huge ribbon in bright green.”

“I've never seen one like that.”

“Oh, it will be the new standard from now on. Now hush. Give me my fix.”

“I knew I shouldn't have introduced you to them.”

“Medal.”

“I would like to see your father's expression when you try to get one created to thank me for cookies.”

“Do you think he actually reads those proposals? I'm fairly sure I could get him to sign it.”

“What would you call it?”

“The keeper of royal comfort.”

“That sounds like a title instead of a medal.”

“Are you interested in changing your work description?”

“If it keeps me around you, why not?” Bren replied lightly, but the sincerity in her words shone through, and for a moment Kir forgot to breathe. 

“I could think of other titles that would keep you closer still,” she said, the words refusing to stay inside her.

'As close as this,' she wanted to say, 'always.'

“Oh?”

Bren's colour was better again, the shattering almost gone, but they were still lying skin to skin, close as two people can get.

“I'm not convinced I should even mention them,” Kir hedged, as she didn't want to make things awkward.

“I am. Unless you're thinking court jester which – no, it strikes a little too close to home.”

“Oh? Did you have jesters in your family tree too?” she was grateful for the respite because she really, really wasn't convinced she should rock the boat with her wistful thinking.

“I was mostly referring to being bullied.”

“Ah. No court jester then.”

“But anything else I am willing to entertain the idea of.”

“The positions would come with titles.”

“I thought that's what we were talking about?”

“Titles that would make you a noble.”

“Oh.” Was that disappointment in Bren's voice? Kir wasn't sure which way to read it, but she had gone this far already.

“It would be unheard of for a child of the Seat to take a commoner spouse.”

A deep silence, then: “Did you seriously just propose to me to find out where I keep the peanut buttercups?”

“Maybe I should have led with a love confession or two, but I wasn't sure you were strong enough to hear them yet.”

“Kir, your sense of humour will land you in trouble one day.”

So she was determined to be stubborn. Or was she trying to give Kir an out? Either way, bridge already in flames, Kir leaned her face closer to drop a soft kiss on Bren's lips.

She wanted to say something poignant, maybe to refer the fairy tale Bren had told her, because it was filled with touching vows. But all she could think of was the realisation she had shared, about homes and travelling.

“You're my home,” she said, and judging by the soft smile on Bren's face, it was enough to convince her. 

The next kiss was more mutual, and an order of magnitude more heated. 

“You're my home, too,” Bren said, and Kir had never known any words could make her happier than 'I love you.'

*

They slept in the same bed for the rest of the journey. There was even some sleeping involved.


End file.
